20Something Doubt

Generation Y. We grew up with cassette tapes and VHS movies, Walkmans and LiteBrites. Now, we are the Facebookers and Tweeters, the perpetually connected. 

Many of us had few worries until recently. We got everything we ever needed, and most of what we wanted. Our parents turned their Clinton-era riches into our cars and college educations. 

So, why is every 20something I know severely depressed? 

Part of it is just the natural side effect of pulling away from those who kept us fed and clothed and happy. But Generation Yers have to deal with something unique: literally not being able to pull away. We can’t all afford to pay for our own apartments, cars, food, cell phones, and certainly not our own health insurance. Yet, we want to be able to. None of us wants to rely on our parents forever. Do we have a choice, though, in an era marked by the lowest relative wages since the 1970s and a steadily rising cost of living?

The “Great Recession” has contributed to the burgeoning ranks of unemployed and underemployed college graduates, but this problem was present before the real estate bubble burst. Young, educated people have met unprecedented problems in the job market since 2000. A decade ago, it was less clear that this was a symptom of nationwide financial sickness. Now, even though the reality of a fruitless job search is widespread, we still blame ourselves. That’s the American way, after all: to believe that we all have control over our economic circumstances. All that we’re getting from this attitude is a huge amount of guilt, and large piles of unpaid bills.

Our parents and grandparents could call it entitlement, could say that we expect too much and aren’t willing to work hard enough. These are the same people that brought us up to believe we would find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, if we just followed the rules.

We should all be concerned about more than attitudes when an entire generation is incapable of supporting itself. I have all the desire in the world to keep my son happy and healthy, but the fact remains that if either of us had a dire health emergency, I would not have the funds in place to keep us from sinking into a bog of medical debt. Even things as vital as food are driving a wedge between those who can afford them and those who can’t. It’s no longer true that you can simply invest some elbow grease and reap fair rewards, and we certainly can’t get ahead as quickly as our parents did.

While this exaggerated period of struggle is disproportionately affecting those of us who already have children, it is also defining the ability of the childless young people to ever create a stable home life. Economists have identified our generation as the first since the beginning of the 20th century that will not be better off than the previous, and who knows what that will mean for our children? If we can’t give them anything close to what we had, will they have even more challenges? Or will they be better able to face financial difficulties, and therefore well-adjusted?

There are exogenic cultural factors in the 20something, “I’m broke” dilemma. But on a personal level, no matter their origin, feelings of worthlessness can be devastating. If we push and push and never see results, we lose faith in ourselves and our belief systems. I only hope that my peers can find something worth living for when they have nothing to live on, and learn to distinguish between the things they can change and the things that happen to them.

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You’ll Never Catch Me Cleaning

Amen.

I can cook, clean, iron, and wash things just as well as the next person. But, I don’t. I don’t like doing any of these things, and I take shortcuts whenever possible. 

I’ve always been anti-domestic activities, but I’m even more so now that the majority of my time is spent with a toddler. Why would I use the precious naptime hour to wash dishes? Perhaps if I had an office job, hence a reason to have pressed clothes, I’d care a little more. But I’m very practical about these things: I don’t care any more about walking around the house in wrinkled shirts than I do about putting on makeup to go to the grocery store. 

When things are simply purposeful, not all-consuming, they have the potential to be more enjoyable. I can use folding clothes as a reason to take a breather, and I can enjoy cooking an elaborate meal once a month because most of the time, I grab cereal or make myself a wrap. 

It’s like anything else in life; balance is key. When I start tripping over toys, I go on a ten-minute organizing spree. When I feel like a slob after days in the house, I curl my hair and find an excuse to leave. I could certainly live in pajamas 24/7, but I avoid the routines that run so many people’s lives. 

A healthy work ethic is important, and I was certainly raised in a busy household. I think I am the only one of my immediate family members who can sit down for more than twenty minutes at a time without jumping up to start the next task. Perhaps it is a kind of rebellion, a decision to get away from things I don’t value but always had to do. I feel about housework like I do about the few “regular” jobs I’ve had: what is the point of doing this exceptionally well? 

The long and short of it is: I’d rather be reading. Or writing. Or running. Always have, always will.

So, as the mom who must instill that same work ethic in my son as he grows, how do I get across the importance of duties without clouding the lesson with my own distaste for all things mundane? I definitely don’t want to be stuck with doing his laundry while he waxes poetic about the uselessness of such a thing. Yet, I want him to pick up on the idea that the drudgery is but a means to an end.

Maybe there will come a day when I have more kids, more work, and more living space, and suddenly have to stick to a shower-scrubbing schedule. But for now, I refuse to spend buckets of time doing things I hate. 

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